Unchained Melody
by DianaLecter
Summary: Clarice says goodbye.. Many many years after 'Hannibal' the novel.


Unchained Melody

As she entered the room, Clarice noted no immediate difference in his appearance.Still, even now, he remained the picture of strength, and she wasn't sure if she liked it that way.It somehow made things more difficult.She felt awkward mourning, for in the dismal state of reality, he had not lost a thing.He was still Hannibal Lecter, genius, artist, musician, cannibal, and most certainly the keeper of her heart.

For the past few days, the routine had been the same.Scheduled visits, in and out to change the forms of medication he assigned himself, making sure the dosage was accurate, perhaps exchanging a few lines of dialogue, nothing personal.Clarice dreaded each call for the usual fears, and likewise felt the fingers of self-disgust at her unwillingness to speak.

Silence could drive a person insane.

In those hours of stillness, waiting for the end, she found herself conflicted with memories, some bittersweet, others that drew tears to her eyes.Tears that she kept inside, tears that she paid for over and over again.While the years they had together were precious, they had both known time would not permit them eternal bliss.Now that the day was nearing, Clarice reflected it with a sort of indifference.Years of preparation had no affect on how she felt, and the wealth of emotions swirling inside could not be rivaled by any pain, exasperation, or confusion she had endured in the past.

And yet it was here, and there was nothing she could do about it.Standing to the side, unable to prevent anything from happening.Out of every foe she had faced, of every dark time she encountered, every this and that, in the end, life still had the last laugh.

Death did not scare Clarice Starling.Not at all.It was just another fact of life.Even the prospect of what occurred once others died didn't scare her.She knew she could cope, she could survive.The years she had with him were the most stimulating and fulfilled that she could imagine a person having, and because of this, she knew any amount of time offered by fate would never be enough.

Thus bringing her to the heart of her confusion.While pain gripped her at every fiber, tore at her, clung to her, she also felt peace.Clarice knew, sitting in the parlor of their residence in Florence, that the time they were granted was more than either could anticipate.Their life together was complete, and she knew there was nothing either would take back.

She was glad they had moved back to Florence.In these times, she knew it was best for him to be home.And this was certainly home.Clarice knew, on a level, that it would be her resting place as well.As Lecter had promised long ago, she fell in love with the beauty of the town, enticed with charm and intrigue.Though she was faced with the empty years of the future, she didn't shy from the implication of being alone.

Clarice reflected this, because having him in her life at all meant that she would never be alone again.In their seven years apart, a time window that seemed so trivial now, she had carried him with her through every task, every assignment, every date with a man she understandably had no future with.The prospect did not scare her.Every conversation she ever had with him was safely lodged in her own complete memory palace.Every intimacy, every laugh, every shared insult, every mock fight, every this and that.Once, long ago, he told her that his own palace had acted suitably when he knew the gamble of spending his life without her was concrete, there, almost as though he could taste it.With the memories they spent building together with her, Clarice knew she would never want for anything.

And yet, beyond every rationality, it still hurt.

_It still hurt._

Perhaps she had lived with him for too long, finding expressions of emotion terribly trite.After all, what were tears?Just exterior confirmation that you were breaking from the inside?What good would it do either of them?

Clarice was very careful.Though she had never cried much in the past, it took years to coax her womanly senses into not extending to hyper action.She was strong, and she knew this.It wasn't the importance of emotional survival; it was the need for life.

Today, the routine was no different.Lecter had only been bedridden for a week or so.In entering and exiting to deliver his medication, Clarice recalled the conversation that introduced her to this, that forced her to make these revelations with herself.It was nothing climactic, and nothing he prepared her for.They were so beyond that in their relationship.Everyday bluntness was customary, and it didn't surprise her to receive his discovery without preamble.

He told her a few things then, concerning his future.Some of his inward battles and post-outcomes surprised her.Already, without even alerting her to the matter, he had decided to let life progress, to leave this earth as naturally as he came.It was admirable, for she knew he could not tolerate weakness.

Now, in the final stages of this, Clarice understood.He would not allow life to take him without battle, for as he quoted to her, "Man can be destroyed but not defeated."

This hadn't defeated him, or even destroyed him.In these past few days, Clarice had witnessed a Hannibal Lecter stronger than any she knew in the past, and for that courage, she loved him all the more.

Inside, Clarice performed no task differently.She denied herself a moment of solitude to watch over her beloved, even as he slept.To see such peace in this man was liberating, but also felt like invasion of privacy.Even with the numerous reassurances he had given her in the past that she was the initiator of his inward serenity, she felt there were certain things she had to leave to him.

However, as she moved to the door, Clarice couldn't help her gaze from wandering in his direction.As if on cue, her eyes overflowed with tears, tears that would not be shed, and a general relief washed over her.Even now, she acknowledged she would kill for that man.His strength had not abandoned him, even as his life threatened to.The relief was perhaps a reflex of vanity, perhaps not.It circulated on her intense gratitude that she was here, here to share these last minutes with him.With as painful as they promised to be, she ached a thousand times more to think he might have died alone.

And then she remembered herself, and her promise to allow him privacy.Grasping the doorknob, she turned and started the solemn walk outdoors, to her haven, here she would reflect and remember.Every memory was received with a smile, every minute of their time together brought joy to her heart.

There was no place she would rather be.

However, when she was halfway out the door, a voice from behind beckoned her to turn around.

"Clarice."

The saying of her name was no different than any other time it rolled off his tongue, whether in discussion, play, or pleasure. Neither a question nor calling, he stated it as though she was a proposal to a committee, and she found this terribly endearing.Sickness could not alter him anymore than it would her.It was simply another phase of their life, something they had to conquer.

Death was not the great conqueror.Though it would claim him in the end, by no means did it seize victory.

Whether or not she believed in any deity, Clarice had no doubt he would remain with her long after his physical presence departed.It was not a question of religion, rather knowledge and understanding.

Releasing a quivering breath, she turned to face him, unsurprised when she found herself trapped in his powerful maroon gaze.At that minute, someone could have placed her in Baltimore as a naïve FBI trainee, or back at Chesapeake in the aftermath of their special dinner, or in a variety of thousands of blissful memories, and she would not know the difference for his eyes were always the same.

Answering her name was unimportant.She responded with her gaze, just as he called her with his.Some might find this cold, but it was habit for them.It had been for years now.To alter inclination because of untimely events was far more dangerous than any illness could ever be.

"Come here, Clarice."Lecter sat up, and it took him a minute.Once situated, he extended a hand to illustrate his request.

Biting her lower lip, she moved forward without hesitation.Once at his side, she took his hand in hers, and nearly trembled with the warmth he radiated.For a minute, they caressed each other with their eyes, and she allowed herself to enjoy the strokes his skin offered hers.

These intimacies were going to be the most difficult to live without.Not the conversations, not the threat of what would never again be, but for the simple pleasure of holding his hand, sharing his gaze, nestling to his warmth at night.

At that, Clarice bit back a shuddering breath, shunning the tears that she would not shed.

He smiled at her, and the simple poise of his features did more harm than good."You are very brave," he whispered."Never doubt your courage, Clarice."Slowly, he brought her hand to his mouth and kissed it."There are things we need to discuss."

"Later.You need to rest."

"No.Now."

The demand in his voice startled her, and it was all she could do to nod her agreement.Obviously, he was becoming more aware of time.They both were.

For a minute, there was nothing.This was not uncommon.They often conversed without speaking, saying things neither of them could put into words for means of pride, for the lack of text available in any language to convey thoughts.These discussions were explored a deeper level of both memory palaces.

Finally, he spoke.His voice carried nothing of significant conversation, however, having lived with him for several decades, Clarice knew better without instruction."The summer grows longer, doesn't it?" he asked."Tell me…how old are you these days, Clarice?"

He knew.Why this was relevant, she didn't know.

"As old as I was yesterday."She smiled at him, knowing he would hate it, should she lose her spunk.

Indeed, he chuckled richly."Hmmm…touché.We've had many good years together, haven't we?"

At that, she had to swallow before nodding, and the lump to digest was hard."Yes…" An instinctive plea arose in her throat, and she couldn't stop it from erupting from her lips."And we'll have many more."

Again, he laughed, reaching with his other hand to pat hers reassuringly."How domestic of you," he observed."And very…"

"Original?"

"I was going to say endearing, but I suppose it fits both criteria."His smile broadened."You have terrific moxy, Clarice.I've always admired that."

The silence that followed was companionable yet brief.Lecter drew in a deep breath, as though it were crucial, and locked eyes with her again."There are some things you need to know…some things I must tell you."A breath."Clarice, there's nothing that I value more than our time together.We've lived richly, selfishly, absorbed with earthly pleasures, and I've enjoyed every minute of it.Our personal relationship cannot be defined in mere words and sentences.We've shared more than any two people should be allowed to share.And I regret nothing.Do you hear me, Clarice?"When she responded with a nod, emotion forbidding her to more, he smiled his pleasure, and his voice soothed."I wonder at times only how I've kept you this long.I thought surely you would realize one of these days that I was unworthy of you.Always unworthy."

Clarice's tears that she would not shed were nearing dangerously to the edge.Her endurance pressed her, and she had to clinch her teeth to keep her wits."Hannibal—"

"Please.Let me finish."

Drawing in a deep breath, Clarice held his eyes, and nodded."All right."

Nodding his thanks, Lecter rested a few beats, studying her with the most infatuated gaze."There are some things I know about you, things you might deny, things you might anger to hear.I know you have no formal ties to religion, not any longer.However, there are ambitions for piety that you may never rid of, simply for your childhood ties.Tell me, Clarice, do you, looking at me now, fear for my soul?"

Though the allegation seemed ridiculous, completely ill-gotten for their open and shared views on religion, she didn't frown at the question, or deny its validity.In the past few days, she had revisited dead ethics, morals long since buried deep in the layers of her subconscious.She had considered, should there be a Heaven and Hell after all, where she might meet him.In all their years of living in so-called blasphemy from the Lord, she doubted either of them chanced well in the gateways of the Kingdom. 

Likewise, Clarice had long since resolved within herself, that truly good people could never be shunned.And while Lecter's crimes were undoubtedly as notorious in the above as they were on this earth, she picked away at the exterior and stereotypical assumptions.

However, there was nothing either of them could possibly know now.And in truth, she didn't care where his soul went, as long as she followed in its footsteps when her own time arrived.Should they be cast into the lake of fire, at least they would be together.After facing the hell on earth, whatever waited in the beyond did little to frighten her, or challenge her stamina.

"No," she said firmly, knowing her eyes reflected her conviction.

He grinned."I'm glad."Then, likewise, the smile dissipated and he took another breath, but not in a struggle to possess air."What I ask you now, I ask you to consider.Should the answer be anything but no, I'm not sure I can rest well in the after years of this life.However, I don't want you to give me anything but honesty."Again he paused, but more for affect, the grip on her hand tightening."Clarice, I've taken so much from you.Your youth, your ambitions, your career, your freedom…your life.I robbed you of this blindly, and while I always allowed a window of escape, I know you smelled the implication of what such leave would mean.So now that we're here…that you see yourself for what I've made of you, what you've made of yourself…Clarice, do you regret any of it?Do you regret our time together, what you forfeited for the promise of what could be as opposed to what was?Tell me, truly…"

The tears that she would not shed were back again, pushing against her skin in a foray of inward cries that demanded release.However, Clarice stabled herself, drawing in a sharp breath as she went to her knees, if only to be nearer to him.Hesitantly, she drew her free hand from her side, running her curled knuckles softly over his skin.With a muffled sob, she shook her head, harder than she intended."No," she said firmly."No, never.Never ever.I've never reconsidered, and I won't ever.Don't you see?You didn't steal my life…you gave it back to me.I live now because I know I'm alive.I didn't before.I didn't for a long time.I—"

"Do you promise me, Clarice?"

"Yes!Of course…I—"

"Thank you."As he had so many years ago, Lecter looked truly at peace, there, under her caresses, holding her hand close to his chest.Slowly, he released the grip of one hand, reaching to stroke her face, and seeming to find simple pleasure in her skin.He kept her enclosed hand above his heart, and she reveled in the strength of it, even now under such conditions.A thousand nights flashed before her eyes, nights feeling that heart beat in perfect syncopation with her own, against her own, and Clarice nearly buckled at impact.

"There are so many things," he mused a minute later, "that I wish I could tell you.Speaking in the higher levels of human vulnerability has never been a strong suit with either of us, I know.There are things that must be said, and things that can never be said.Allow me this very contemptible attempt…" His eyes held her, and she felt numb all over, losing herself in his voice, in the strokes against her face, soaking everything up and filing it in her memory palace, where she would cherish it until she joined him."You, Clarice, are my rose.My song.Scorned with thorns and tattered through a long, trying life.But you've never shied, and I know you will never will.Even when the winds threaten to knock you over, you always fight to your feet and stand with pride and grace.I know you always will."

Once more, Clarice had to choke back her tears, those she couldn't shed.Moisture damped her eyes, yet none escaped.Through it all, his smile remained simple, as though discussing the weather, his eyes kind, and his voice unchanged.

Maintaining his hold on her face, Lecter slowly brought the hand at his chest to his mouth once more, and the kiss there made her skin burn in fury of these events.At last, her outrage rumbled and escaped, and she found herself shrouded in a series of demands.Why?Why her?Why now?

These things could not be stopped.

"Would it be redundant," he questioned a minute later, "to quote Shakespeare?I think not."And Clarice knew. She knew her emotion could not swell inside forever.It pounded in liberation, and yet she denied it access.Not now.He needn't see her broken, confused, angered.Such would do neither of them any good.

"Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?"He whispered, and something inside jolted."Thou art more lovely and more temperate.Rough winds do shake, the darling buds of May.

"And summer's lease hath all too short a date.Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines, and often is his gold complexion dimm'd; And every fair from fair sometime declines.By chance, nor nature's changing course, untrimm'd.

"But thy eternal summer shall not fade.Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st.Nor shall Death brag thou wand'rest in his shade.

"When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st.So long as men can breathe or eyes can see.So long lives this, and this gives life to thee."

Clarice closed her eyes, and the tears that she could not shed were kept at bay. Inside, she was sobbing, bleeding, hurting in ways no human should hurt.But to know his life was fulfilled, that he had lived each day, for each day, even in those eight lost years of incarceration, in those seven wasted years of being apart, was self-invigorating.And she knew then, she knew she had never known a better man.Not her father, who squandered his life for not understanding its importance.Not John Brigham, a face long dead to her, she wondered why she should call upon it now.Even Jack Crawford, deceased in the many years prior to this, he who brought them together.Who brought her here.Never before this man, before this love of her life, had she known anyone better.

And this gave her peace.

When she opened her eyes, outlined in a red rim even if she hadn't cried, she registered immediately the proximity of the end, and it took her breath away.Coaxing her sob away, Clarice leaned forward and touched her lips to his, one last time, and held them there for sweet seconds.She took the taste of him, unchanged with age, into her mouth, and pulled away to see his eyes.

Life was fading.

And she knew.She knew she had to say it.

"I love you, Hannibal.I always have."

Then, with a small smile, he nodded languidly."I know," he replied."And you know…you know…"

"Yes, I know."

Lecter's smile broadened as it could, and he again brought her hand to his mouth.There it held until the grip around her wrist drained of strength, and the hand that remained steadfast at her face, lowered to the mattress.

And then he was gone.

Gone.

Similarly, the tears that she could not shed burst through, and Clarice lurched forward, wrapping her arms around him, held in the still quiet of their home, sobbing onto him.Her cries were uninhibited, held back with nothing, as the grasp of reality took her and shook hard.

Reality that she was prepared for.

Reality that she must face.

She didn't know how long she remained with him, but when she finally summoned the courage to trust her legs, she wobbled to a stance, and left.Remnants of tears crusted on her face, and the sounds of her sobs echoed in the hall. 

But she wouldn't cry anymore.After all, this was only one of those summer days, and she had many ahead. 

Not just she.They.

They had many ahead, still.In that place where she kept him, in that forbidden structure that was the deepest part of herself.She would carry him to forever, until her chapter in this life closed, and they were reunited in the end.

FIN


End file.
